


The Color of Happiness

by posthumous_vigor



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (kind of), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caduceus Clay Deserves Nice Things, Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Eodwulf is emotionally constipated but like in a cute way, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon, Rating May Change, Virgin Caduceus Clay, give Caduceus a buff boyfriend 2k20, set prior to the Mighty Nein meeting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27087547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posthumous_vigor/pseuds/posthumous_vigor
Summary: An injured Volstrucker agent wanders into the Savalirwood in search of a rumored healer. What he finds is not what he expected.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Eodwulf
Comments: 9
Kudos: 59





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> What if Eadwulf met Caduceus before the Mighty Nein?
> 
> Also, the first chapter is pretty short, but the others will be much longer.

Blood seeped through his fingers and onto the forest floor, pooling in the leaves like spilled ink on old, curling parchment. Eadwulf’s breathing was becoming increasingly ragged as he stumbled through the trees, occasionally stopping to lean against one and catch his breath. The gaps between the trees were growing larger, and he knew he would soon be upon a clearing or grove of some kind, as indicated in the very hasty directions a frightened farmer had given him when Eadwulf had lumbered through his wheat. 

The plan was clear, despite his slowly decreasing mental faculties: find the healer, get the healing, kill the healer, make it look like an unfortunate accident, leave. It seemed easy enough to accomplish, especially if this person really did live alone in the middle of a dense forest.

He was so consumed in thought, repeating the plan over and over, that he didn’t realize he’d entered the clearing until he was a few steps in. 

Light trickled down through the leaves above, creating little formless figures that danced across the gravestones before him, performing a surprisingly cheerful display in what should have been a mournful place. The stones themselves seemed to span in age, some crumbling to dust as they were devoured by lovely flowering vines and moss, while others remained solid and clean, like they had been erected yesterday. 

Though the stones were varied in appearance, they all led to the same place—a cylindrical hut that rose into a tall spire. 

Taking another few wheezing breaths, Eadwulf stumbled forward, weaving around the graves until he was only a few feet from the tall, arched door. Reaching out, Eadwulf could almost touch the worn wood, but he didn’t need to. The door opened by itself.

Or rather, it was opened from the inside by the strangest creature Eadwulf had ever seen. It was incredibly tall, almost a foot taller than him, with a wide, flattened nose and long bovine ears that extended out from its elongated head. All of which might have been reasonably acceptable, were the creature not a vibrant pink.

It stood there in the doorway, wearing only a loose fitting pair of trousers that hung precariously off of its thin hips and an untied silken robe decorated with images of colorful flowers. The robe hung open, exposing the creature’s chest covered in pink fur that eventually gave way to grey skin.

“Well, you’re certainly in a sorry state, aren’t you?” The creature smiled lazily and took a sip from the porcelain teacup in its right hand. 

Eadwulf opened his mouth to respond, to come up with something to say to this fey thing, but before any words could form into a coherent sentence, he felt himself teeter forward and fall headfirst into the mossy doorstep. 

Right before he blacked out, he heard the creature say in its deep, rumbling voice, “Oh, that’s not good.”


	2. The Cleric

Eadwulf was lost in a dark sea of screams and pain. He was burning. His flesh twisted and warped as the residuum embedded in his skin threatened to break free.

Then gradually, the screams began to fade into memory and the pain, while still present, was dulled. He wasn’t burning, but enveloped in what felt like a warm embrace. The darkness was no longer all-consuming, but more like the pleasant monochrome behind closed eyes as he relaxed in a grassy field, the sunlight kissing his face. For the first time in a long time, he felt at peace. 

Gradually, he came to consciousness. His first thought was that he’d never felt more rested in his entire life, and his second was the realization that his hands and feet were bound. 

Eyes snapping open, Eadwulf immediately began struggling at his binds, which were soft, green vines with new leaf growth. 

“Hey, hey!” He heard an insistent voice off to his side, but it only made him struggle harder.

“It’s alright, calm down.” A large, warm hand covered in pink fur hovered over his chest, not quite touching him. The vines gently loosened and receded back to wherever they came from, and the shock of being so easily released was enough to get Eadwulf to still. 

The pink creature was sitting in a chair next to the long cot Eadwulf was laid out on. It nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied.

“There we go. I apologize for restraining you, but you were thrashing about quite violently in your sleep. I was afraid you’d worsen your injuries.”

Eadwulf stared at it, speechless.

Unperturbed, it continued, “My name is Caduceus. Caduceus Clay.”

Clearly he was expecting a name in return, but Eadwulf remained silent, partly because of suspicion and partly because he was having a little trouble registering everything that was happening. His brain felt slow and fuzzy, which terrified him.

“Okay,” the creature, Caduceus, said, seemingly unoffended. Twisting in his chair, Caduceus grabbed a large cup filled with a clear liquid and held it out for Eadwulf to take. 

Eadwulf took it, but frowned at it distrustfully.

“It’s just water. You lost a lot of blood and need to replenish it. And long naps always make me thirsty.” Caduceus nodded to himself again, his long pink hair bouncing as he moved.

Silently casting a poison detection spell, Eadwulf determined that it was, in fact, just water. 

He downed it in one gulp. It was the purest water he’d ever drunk.

Gasping, he let Caduceus take the empty cup, his long fingers easily plucking it out of Eadwulf’s hands. The pads of his fingers were a darker grey than the rest of his skin, contrasting sharply with the short pink fur coating the top of his hands

“So you can do magic? That’s fun.” Caduceus smiled blithely. “Are you a wizard?”

Eadwulf stiffened and said nothing. How Caduceus knew he’d cast a spell was uncertain, but it seemed this benign healer had more than one talent.

Nodding once again, Caduceus moved on. “Would you like something to eat? I was able to almost completely heal the wound in your gut, so you should be able to eat without any discomfort. There are still some surface injuries though, so don’t get too rambunctious.”

Without waiting for a reply, Caduceus rose slowly and made his way to the pot warming over the fireplace at the other end of the room. There was a modest oval-shaped table between the end of the cot and the fireplace, with six chairs around it—the seventh still beside his bed. Seven chairs for a man who seemingly lived alone. 

Caduceus hummed absently to himself as he dolled soup into a wooden bowl, setting it on the table.

Suddenly realizing how hungry he was, Eadwulf lurched forward and awkwardly attempted to disentangle his weak limbs from the mess of linen blankets. The cool outside air hit him and Eadwulf realized he was barechested, wearing only a pair of pants made for someone much longer and bandages that wrapped around his midsection and shoulder. Eadwolf did a mental catalogue to ensure all of his parts were present and accounted for. 

Halfway into spooning out another bowl of soup, Caduceus looked up.

“Oh, you shouldn’t get—ah, well, okay,” he said as Eadwulf made a pathetic display of stumbling to the nearest chair, huffing frustratedly the entire time. 

While he painfully settled into the hard seat, Caduceus brought over the fresh bowl of soup and set it in front of him, placing a matching wooden spoon next to the bowl. He smelt like medicinal herbs and sweet nectar. 

Eadwulf restrained himself long enough to cast another poison detection spell, and once the soup—it looked like mushroom soup, with some sort of root vegetable—had been cleared, he ravenously shoveled it into his mouth. The spoon became an impediment, so Eadwulf dropped it in favor of picking up the bowl and taking loud gulps, ignoring the mild scalding to his esophagus the soup was inflicting. 

Caduceus watched him, eyebrows raised more out of amusement than disapproval or surprise.

Finishing, Eadwulf breathed in deeply, set the bowl on the table, and squinted at Caduceus.

“What are you?” 

“A vegetarian.”

Eadwulf snorted. Paying him no mind, Caduceus had turned back to his soup, blowing on it gently.

Running a hand over his short beard, Eadwulf pondered his next move. It would be easy to kill Caduceus—a strong wind could probably shatter the man—, but despite his better thinking, Eadwulf found himself strangely enamored with him. He would get more information, and then work from there. Thinking on the spot always worked better than planning. It was the sort of thing that Astrid, always full of clever schemes and well-hidden secrets, would admonish him for. But Astrid wasn’t here. 

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Caduceus exclaimed after a particularly long slurp. Fishing around in his pocket, he produced a medallion on a chain and delicately allowed it to collect into a pile on the table between them. A raven’s metal eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling. 

“I had to take it off of you while I was healing you, but it looked important.” After a thoughtful pause he continued, “Your clothes are still in the washing, though.” 

Eadwulf slowly reached out to pick it up and looped the chain back around his neck, watching Caduceus’ face as he did so. The familiar weight over his heart was comforting, the cold metal a constant reminder of who he really was. “Thank you.”

“It’s not often that I come across followers of the Raven Queen,” Caduceus mused, thumbing at the pink hair lining his chin. 

“You know of the Matron?” Eadwulf leaned forward in his chair, the wood creaking underneath him, and rested his forearms on the table, tattoos on full display. He didn’t miss the way Caduceus’ eyes flicked downward, but it also didn’t seem like he was trying to hide it.

“Oh, yes. My family used to follow her until we were called to the service of the Wildmother. I still have a great deal of respect for her, and our… areas of interest overlap.” He gestured to the large graveyard outside the cracked window.

“I also don’t come across many followers of the Raven Queen, or followers of Melora, for that matter. Especially not ones who are so vocal about their heretical worship.” Eadwulf leaned back in the chair and smirked, crooked and wicked.

Caduceus shrugged nonchalantly. “Why hide it? I trust in her and in her plans for me. Would you like some tea?”

He should say no. He should say no and get back his clothes and kill the creature and leave. Or he could let this play out.

“Yes, please.”

Caduceus’ broad, delighted smile was almost childlike in its innocence. Pushing off with his massive, long-fingered hands on the table, Caduceus stood and went over to a large cabinet filled with an assortment of little folded paper packets, along with bowls of what looked like dried herbs. 

“Any particular preference?”

“Surprise me.”

A pleased chortle in the back of Caduceus’ throat was the only response, as he rifled through a stack of the packets. Plucking two from the back, he set about making the tea, seemingly quite proud of his selection.

While his host was preoccupied, Eadwulf took the time to look around. The circular room had an open concept that was simultaneously busy and minimal, lacking more than a few pieces of furniture but absolutely bursting with plants. Some were dried, hanging from the ceiling in the kitchen area, and others were in haphazardly arranged pots, ranging from small to what seemed like the beginnings of a leafy tree. Overall it created a warm, comfortable atmosphere that reminded him of the stories of good witches his grandmother used to tell him when he was a boy.

A curving staircase was carved out of the wood near the door, leading up to what Eadwulf imagined was a living space. He wondered if that was where Caduceus slept, or if he preferred the cot. 

Watching Caduceus’ back while he worked, Eadwulf wondered a great many things.

“Here we go,” Caduceus murmured as he returned to the table with a tray, on which was a small porcelain teapot and two mismatched cups. “Thank you for your patience.”

“And thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Clay.” Eadwulf flashed his most charming grin. 

Returning a polite smile, Caduceus said, “Just Caduceus is fine,” as he set out the two cups and gently poured an amber liquid into them. “I don’t believe I got your name.”

“Eadwulf,” he blurted, before it occurred to him that he should’ve probably given a false one. He shooed the thought away. What’s done is done.

“Eadwulf. What a nice name.” 

Gazing into Caduceus’ eyes, Eadwulf realized his irises were also pink. Pink eyes framed by pink lashes.

“Please forgive me for my earlier rudeness. I have never seen someone like yourself and was taken aback.”

Chuckling, Caduceus took the seat across from him, his ears flicking. “Oh, that’s quite alright. Firbolgs aren’t very common in this part of the world.”

“That is what you are? A firbolg?”

Caduceus nodded and took a sip of tea.

“Are you all so… colorful?” Eadwulf asked, well aware that he was once again straying into rudeness. But his line of questioning was rewarded with a good-natured laugh.

“No, no, I’m afraid that’s a Clay family trait.”

“Interesting. It’s very beautiful.” And it was the truth. Eadwulf took a sip of tea and watched as Caduceus’ cheeks darkened. His tongue was flooded with a spicy but sweet flavor unlike any he’d ever tasted. There was a headyness to it, almost like alcohol, but with none of the bitterness accompanying it. 

“This—this is delicious,” he exclaimed, dumbfounded. 

Caduceus clapped his hands together happily. “I’m so glad you like it. That would be from the Fairbairn plot, I believe. Lovely halfling family. Gave me some very delicious sweet bread after the funeral ceremony.”

Though proper Common was not his first language, Eadwulf was sure that he had a solid grasp of it. But the words Caduceus used and the order in which they were used did not make any sense.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, the tea. All the tea comes from the graves here.” Caduceus smiled pleasantly, like he hadn’t just said the most outlandish thing Eadwulf had even heard. 

Peering down at the innocent-looking liquid sloshing around in his cup, Eadwulf began to laugh, running a hand through his short-cropped hair. 

“You certainly are something, Caduceus!” He leaned back and balanced on the back two legs of his chair—a bad habit that Trent had almost succeeded in beating out of him, but Eadwulf was stubborn. “I like you!”

“I like you, too.”

Eadwulf ignored the way his heart skipped a beat.

They finished their tea in comfortable silence, and Eadwulf wondered how long it had been since he had sat with someone without any expectations or agenda. Most of his interactions were either manufactured for the sake of obtaining something, or guarded to not give up something of his own. It reminded him of long evenings spent studying in the library with Bren, the silence between them only broken by a page turn or the scribbling of a pen.

“You are a gracious host, but I do not wish to overstay my welcome,” Eadwulf said as he stood, “If I could please have my clothes back, I will pay you and be on my way.”

Eyes widening, Caduceus held out a hand as if to stop him. “But your injuries are not fully healed. It would be unwise to leave in this state.”

“Unwise?” Eadwulf paused, amused. “Well then what is your professional recommendation?”

Folding his hands in his lap, Caduceus sighed thoughtfully. “Since you’re otherwise in very good health, I’d recommend you stay two more days. Letting the injuries repair on their own in between healing sessions keeps the wounds from scarring and allows me to regain my strength.”

Eadwulf already had quite a few scars that Caduceus had no doubt seen, but he felt like indulging the man. Plus, he did seem quite waifish and frail, so it was quite possible he wasn’t able to withstand the physical toll of repeatedly casting high-level spells.

Taking a look out the window, Eadwulf judged by the light that it was midday. 

“How long was I out?”

“About ten hours.”

A butterfly flitted past the window. Eadwulf directed his eyes back to Caduceus.

“Two more days?”

“Two more days.”

Eadwulf rapped his knuckles against the table. “Alright. I am yours for two more days.”

Caduceus blushed prettily and beamed like he’d won a prize. Not many people were so delighted by the prospect of Eadwulf’s continued company, and he wondered if Caduceus would be so welcoming if he knew who Eadwulf really was. What he really was. 

“Wonderful. Shall I put on another pot of tea?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eadwulf takes two soup damage.


End file.
